Like Fools We Dance Around Fate
by LikeAVision
Summary: Telling her would change everything-but would it be good or bad?James doesn't know.JSP/OC.Might be expanded into a multi-chap fic.


DSCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would maniacally be writing a next-gen spinoff right now.

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Like Fools We Dance Around Fate

Fate had it in for him, he was sure of it.

Because there's no way he could not have met her, was there? They'd travelled in the same social sphere, gone to the same school for seven years and their parents had been friends from the beginning. At some point, they were bound to meet and become friends.

And after meeting her, there was no way he could not have fallen in love with her.

It was all stupid _destiny's _fault.

Well, he knew there were rules, and one of those rules was _do not fall in love with your best friend_, but he hadn't been looking when he fell, and in any case it wasn't as though he had ever demonstrated great foresight. _She'd _always been the smart one. And man, he wanted her so badly-and he felt awful about it. He shouldn't be _feeling_ this way-he was supposed to protect her, as caveman as that might sound. He was like a _brother_ to her.

(Ergh-okay, bad thoughts.)

But-well- it never, ever felt like it was under his control, you know? It's just-he couldn't _help_ it when he started to think differently about her. And he couldn't control it when he just started feeling happy on seeing her face. She made him _smile_ and he couldn't _help_ that.

He guessed that's why it was called falling-_nothing_ was under your control.

Oh, just-fuck it all.

Because-_she_ dated poets and musicians and philosophers, okay, and...how could he even _begin_ to compare? To guys like that? Like, really? He guessed some girls might prefer him to the whole tortured artist thing; but it was never going to be the one that mattered, was it? And it hurt a bit (okay, a lot) and sometimes he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling at her for going out with all those guys and looking like a pussy. He had no right to be jealous. But face it; he was nothing more than your everyday Joe, with a knack for keeping everyone in splits most of the time, but that didn't _matter_ in front of existentialist debates in terms of pop-punk songs, and soulful love letters. _He_ couldn't write soulful love letters-if he could he would be writing one right now, about how pretty she was(and _see_, he couldn't even whip out fancy lines of poetry about her eyes, or whatever) instead of lying on his bed at ten o'clock, eating chips and brooding. She was his best friend, but it had never even occurred to him that she was also totally, completely _out of his league_.

Oh, and there were girls _lining_ up to date him, okay? He just had to make a call, and he would have a date for the next Saturday night, because he did _not_ lack good looks, nor charm. And fuck, fuck, _fuck_, but it hurt so much that for the first time, he really wanted something-some_one_-and he couldn't _have_ her. The one person in the entire world he didn't have a shot with, it seemed, and he had to go and fall in love with _her_.

So not _fair_.

But like Dad said, life wasn't fair. Yeah, but then, _Dad_'d gotten the girl of his dreams, no fuss, right? For Merlin's sake, Mum used to tell them bedtime stories about him and her instead of something freaking _normal_, like knights and dragons, and stuff. Probably that's why he was such a useless wuss who acted like some gentleman from the eighteenth century on dates (as the aforementioned love of his life was wont to say).Roses, and door-opening, and chair-drawing-out, the works. Well, to hell with her, he'd never found anyone who didn't appreciate it (though he was also wont to break up with his girlfriends too after a while-but he was nice about it, at least, unlike some of _her_ boyfriends).Oh, but _he_ could never forget her, or what she said. Maybe if he acted like her stupid boyfriends spouting poetry all the time and acting all artistic and tortured like-well, a tortured artist, she would like him. But no, he would look like a fucking prick, man, because he wasn't that sort of guy at all. There was nothing he could _do_, you know? Yet like some sort of fool, he still held on to hopes that she would one day come running into his arms and hold on, limpid, saying to him breathlessly,"Oh,I _do_ love you!",gazing with total devotion at him. Merlin, he'd been reading too many of those Harlequin Historicals in secret. She would never do something like that. She was more the kind of girl who'd grab him by the tie and kiss him in front of the whole school (she was rather prone to drama).

Well, it wasn't like he would mind that, either.

Or anything. Oh, he was desperate.

And still...hopeful.

Because-well, like that writer guy or whoever said-tomorrow was another day, right? (or was that someone in a movie?).And maybe tomorrow he'd have the courage to tell her. And maybe...maybe that could make all the difference.

He knew he was being a fool in waiting, but well, nobody was making any life-affirming decisions right now, nobody was getting married or anything. There was still _plenty_ of time. He_ knew_ he was being rather cowardly, but to hell with it, it _wasn't_ like with the other girls. It was...new, and _scary_. And he was an ordinary guy, so he was _scared_, all right?

And he _had_ to learn how to tread this unfamiliar territory before taking that dive that could really change his-his whole life. Because she was so, so important to him, and there wasn't just his heart but their whole friendship at stake-fifteen years of shared crayons, lunches, and special secrets. And he didn't know if he could _bear _it if it had to come down to one or the other. It was .hard to make a decision. And he might well have been flippant about it, and been stupid about it, but bull-headed was just the way he approached everything. It mattered more than anything to him, the way he felt about her,_ she_ mattered more than anything to him. Maybe he couldn't declare it to the whole world and her like the poets in their biker jackets, but he'd gladly jump in front of a moving bus for her (and actions spoke louder than words, so there).

He cared for her all right-he just needed some _time_. To...to make himself strong enough. Strong enough to handle it, if she-if she rejected him and everything was..._ruined _and _spoilt_, just because of him. He needed to be strong enough to not crumble when-_if-_she looked away, and...everything came crashing down, but silently enough so that nobody else noticed when it did-nobody else realized the enormity of what just happened.

He was not totally weighed down by fear, because there was still that amazing _feeling_ when she looked at him and she was near and it gave him some sort of hope. He was just waiting for...the _moment_. The moment when he felt like he was brave enough.

Because his telling her might make all the difference but it might also cause everything he'd known for all the years of his life to fall apart, and he didn't _want_ that to happen, because'almost' was better than 'nothing at all'.

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A/N: This is pretty different from my usual style-what do you think? Review, please. I really, actually like this piece-I really like the character of James II, and I'm thinking of expanding it when I get the time into a multichaptered. Kind of a his and her story. What's your opinion? Are you reading this and shouting 'Oh, NO!'?(Or maybe, just maybe, 'Oh, YES!'?).

Pleeeeeeease review-really. I get lonely without them. :D


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